


Like Real People Do

by thelma_throwaway



Category: Naruto
Genre: 5+1 Things, AU, F/M, Femdom, HBIC Sakura, Mild Blood, Slow Burn, Then Sometimes Fluff, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Tropes, fast burn, moderate smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelma_throwaway/pseuds/thelma_throwaway
Summary: Five twists on well worn KakaSaku tropes, and the one that endures.i. Blood/Angst- Panic gathers as a lump in his throat, his fingers flexing uselessly at his sides-- he doesn't know how to help even if she'd let him.ii. Slow Burn- She did always have a bit of a smart mouth, he muses to himself as the shock recedes.iii. Seduction Mission- “Can’t get a visual,” she pouts. “Scream if you need me.”iv. AU- He can tell by the look in her eye that Haruno-dono is not the type of boss you call with a gentle reminder that the courier is waiting.v. Kakashi Can’t Cook-  “I know I was a little negligent as far as teachers go, but I’m going to be really embarrassed if someone finds out you can’t cook a pot of rice.”+ vi. Old Fashioned Kakashi- “My wife likes you very much. I think my daughter might, too. Me, I think you’re just ok.”
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 50
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

_I will not ask you where you came from_   
_I will not ask and neither should you_   
_Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips_   
_We should just kiss like real people do_

_-_ _"Like Real People Do", Hozier_

I. Blood and Angst

Kakashi has never seen so much blood. It pools beneath her, soaking her clothes and hands, smeared along her thighs, dripping down her ankle and between her toes. The air smells of iron and sweat. The kunoichi moans and scrambles to staunch the bleeding with what looks to him like far too small a roll of cotton bandage.

Panic gathers as a lump in his throat, his fingers flexing uselessly at his sides-- he doesn't know how to help even if she'd let him. Most shinobi only know how to make a tourniquet that'll hold all the way to Konoha and nothing else of field medicine, and he knows even less. His general philosophy for himself is when its your time to go, it's your time to go. But for a teammate... 

“Sakura-- you’re--” 

“I’m fine,” she pants, clutching her stomach. “I’m really fine.”

“I don’t believe you.” They’re crowded in the pathetic little bathroom off their shared room. A B-rank mission with a C-rank budget, and D-rank accommodations. “Should I---”

“Don’t.” She inhales sharply and waves him away, quaking in pain. “Bad timing, huh?”

“I’d say.” They’re supposed to strike against their target today after weeks of recon.

“It always goes like that,” Sakura sighs painfully, slumping against the sink. “When you least expect it.”

“I thought by now you’d be able to at least anticipate---”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” she growls, pulling one of the coarse hand towels from next to the sink. She wets it and starts to mop the blood from her legs, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them into the bathtub. “That’s what I get for only packing white pants for a mission.” 

“Seriously,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. “Don’t you have like… a calendar or something?”

“A calendar?” She scoffs. “It shows up every 4 weeks, Kakashi. Need it or not.”

He chuckles sheepishly. “I never thought of that. No wonder kunoichi have such strong stomachs, you wake up to a bloodbath once a month.”

“More than once. And don’t try and butter me up now,” she scowls, digging in her medic bag pouch for a painkiller. “I just didn’t have a tampon in last night. I’ll be ready to go in 20 minutes.”

With this she shoos him from the bathroom and slams the door, bits of plaster raining down. He shakes them from his hair and sighs as he hears the shower switch on. Sakura is muttering and cursing under her breath, clattering around as he listens intently for some clue to what her next mood will be.

“Kakashi!” He startles a bit and grimaces. “Go. _Away_.”

He should have guessed. She’s been especially short tempered this week, then last night she’d burst into tears when they’d happened upon a dead pigeon on the street. He doesn’t remember dealing with this when she was a genin, but then again Sakura at 12 had been a ball of violent emotions on the best of days. 

Kakashi scurries from the room, taking his time at the vending machine to make sure she has all the privacy she wants and he _needs_ , desperately, because this is not his forte. 

Feelings, and particularly-- those that might not be totally rational. He makes a mental note not to refer to them as such in front of her, his shoulder throbbing at the memory of the last time he’d suggested such a thing during her monthly… appointment.

By the time he returns, she’s already showered and dressed and bundled up the stained bedsheets, positioned just so to hide the dark red mark on the mattress. They’ll be gone by the time housekeeping comes in, and it's not exactly like they’d left a billing address with the front desk. She sighs when he knocks tentatively, cracking the door a bit to make sure the coast is clear. 

“I’m not a bomb, Kakashi,” she fumes.

“I know.” He holds the packet of chocolate candies in front of him like an offering. Sakura smiles and snatches it away, shaking a few of the pieces directly into her mouth.

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “I know I’m a little moody. Sometimes being a woman feels so… undignified. I still can’t believe I have to do this _every_ month until I’m 50---- least I know I’m not pregnant, right?.” 

  
“Indeed.” He stamps down a fury laced question about who exactly would have been responsible for that, which fellow shinobi he would have had to apply a kunai to. He knows instinctively that Sakura isn't one for civilian lovers. _What’s the Hyuuga kid’s name?_ he ponders _Or maybe that skank Genma, he’s always too happy to go for a check-up._ “Ready?”

“Yup!” She grins wide and deposits the last of the candy in his upturned palm. “Now let’s go kill a guy. I hope he puts up a fight!”


	2. Slow Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She did always have a bit of a smart mouth, he muses to himself as the shock recedes.

_ II. Slow Burn _

It strikes quickly, a lightning flash of misfortune or inspiration or possibly both. Like lightning it incinerates, shocks, shorts out every logical circuit in his brain. And with his luck, it will likely strike again. 

He’s already pulling her back for another kiss, or maybe it's the other way around but she’s in his lap, green chakra crackling on her lips as she coaxes his mouth open a little wider. 

Skin to skin-- when had his mask even come off? Kakashi doesn’t remember pulling it down-- he doubts Sakura would, but then again up until about 30 seconds ago he wouldn’t have expected her to lunge at him mouth first either. Or that she’d favor such a bold application of tongue.

She teases the tip along the points of his canines and nips at his full bottom lip. His palms, left half raised in surprise fall against her hips and flex. She hums in approval as he mimics her movements.  _ She did always have a bit of a smart mouth _ , he muses to himself as the shock recedes.

Sakura pushes closer, knees sliding on either side of his hips and he can feel her heart pounding against him. Not fluttery and nervous but hard and even, and he feels a similar pulse travel from his chest down his stomach, disappearing at the juncture of their bodies.

He moves to pull away but she tangles her fingers deeper into his hair and holds him to her, mouth working hungrily against his all the while. He should be a little embarrassed, pinned in place by a girl who barely comes up to his chest, but he can’t bring himself to feel that bad about it. 

It’s not the force she’s applying, but the knowledge of all the strength she  _ isn’t _ that makes it feel like every drop of blood in his body has just reversed direction. Her other hand bunches at the lapel of his flak jacket. It's the sight of the mesh gloves stretched across her dainty knuckles fisted at his throat that completely unmoors him. 

Against his will he moans, eliciting a giggle from the kunoichi in his lap and somewhere in the back of his mind his last two remaining brain cells lodge a weak protest related to her age and their relationship and his rank.

Finally she breaks away, panting and licking her lips, eyes locked on his in a spiralling, teasing stare. He’s seen similar expressions among stray cats who’ve cornered a mouse. She’s daring him to run away. And even if he could, trapped as he is in her super-charged grasp, where would he go? A minute and a half ago he wanted nothing more than to find a nice, solitary rooftop to finish his book on and now he can’t imagine a better place in the village, if not the world, than under Haruno Sakura.

“How long have you been planning that,” Kakashi manages to sigh, doing his best to stifle the breathy edge of surprise from his voice with a bored tone. 

Sakura grins and shrugs but doesn’t remove her hands from his hair and jacket. “I don’t know, it just occurred to me right now.”

“Any particular inspiration?” He raises an eyebrow and moves to pull up his mask. She’s already seen his face but it’s the principle of the thing. Her hand shoots to his wrist and twists it away, resettling it low on her hip or high on her thigh--- depending on just what he’s willing to admit to himself is happening here. “Maa, now you’re just trying to embarrass me, Sakura-chan.”

She sticks her tongue out and winks an eye. He pulls her close, taking a little comfort in the curve of her chest against him, the muscular swell of her ass under his palms, the slim plane of her jaw free from the babyfat roundness she’d worn as his student. Over a decade ago but it feels like three lifetimes by now that he’d taught her to walk up a tree. It hadn’t occurred to him before to think of her as being with carnal desires, much less acted on them-- compassionate, clever, tempestuous, yes.

Unexpectedly sexy, panting in his lap and tugging not so gently at his hair? No. 

Sakura smiles a little sheepishly but doesn’t break her stare. “You look good in the hat.”

“Liar.” His hokage costume is already discarded in a crumpled pile by the door. He can’t stand to wear it a second longer than he has to--- this hadn’t exactly been his idea. “It’s temporary.”

“Fine.” She straightens his collar and smooths his hair before settling both hands against the hollow of his throat. “I  _ really  _ liked how you handed it to those Kiri jerks earlier.”

“Ahh.” Kakashi smiles wryly, tracing a finger up her spine. She bites her lip and he realizes the desire to cover his face again is fast draining away. “I don’t believe ‘handing it to them’ is generally accepted as an effective diplomatic tactic.”   
  
Sakura shrugs. “I don’t know. I spent a lot of time sitting next to Tsunade--- it seems like it’s the  _ only  _ effective diplomatic tactic.” 

“Hmmm.” Kakashi creeps his fingertips up her sides, settling high up on her ribs, thumbs rubbing little circles against her sternum. Sakura’s breath hitches and she presses against his touch. “Should I be worried you have a hokage fetish or is this some type of teacher-student fantasy. Either way it looks like I’m in trouble.” 

“If I had a teacher-student fantasy I’d go find someone who actually taught me something,” she growls, fingertips curling around either side of his throat. She ghosts her lips over his, tracing along his jaw and nose and cheeks before catching him in a bruising kiss. Kakashi wraps one hand around her wrists and jerks them away, pressing them against her chest as his other hand captures the nape of her neck to pull her closer.

“Not a very respectful way to speak to your honorable hokage.”

“ _ Temporary _ hokage.” She coaxes his lips open again with a few well-placed licks and soon they’re kissing again, open mouthed and sighing. 

The whole thing lasts less than five minutes, but in that time his entire opinion of his former student has unraveled and reconfigured itself to accommodate this new information. 

Contrary to popular belief he’s always held the utmost respect for her intelligence and skill, despite her reputation for being a bit of a crybaby as a young genin. But he’s always viewed her as one might view a formerly obnoxious little girl next door, pleasantly matured but not the object of any adult desire. 

Now he wonders how’d she’d react if he tipped her back over his desk, or better yet tossed her over his shoulder to be carried somewhere they won’t be interrupted. And all it had taken was a few stern words to Kirigakure envoy. He chuckles against her mouth, and she pouts and pulls away.

“You’re making fun of me, sensei.” Kakashi makes a noise from deep in his chest and nibbles at her throat, both palms floating up to hold her by the smooth angle of her jaw. “Hmm, maybe I’m not the one with a teacher-student thing.”

“It’s more of a doctor-patient kink.” She gags. “See? Feels weird, someone making your sworn duty sound so  _ dirty _ .”

“I like how it feels,” Sakura says in a low, dangerous tone he’s never heard before. “Do you?”

They sense the chakra of his approaching secretary at the same time, and in a flash she’s removed herself from his lap, straightened her skirt, and chased the blush from her cheeks. It’s Kakashi who's dazed, barely getting his mask up in time before Shikamaru comes through the door.

“Hokage-sama,” he whines, not looking up from the page in his hand. By the time he registers there’s someone else in the chamber, they’ve taken on the supremely innocent pose of an underling reviewing a document over her boss’s shoulder. “I can’t read your hand--- oh, hey Sakura. I just need Kakashi for a minute.” 

“Hey,” she says cheerfully, plucking a random file from Kakashi’s cluttered desk. “This is all I needed anyway, good luck reading his chicken scratch.”

“You wound me,” Kakashi sighs. “Both of you.”

“Bye Shika, bye  _ sensei _ ,” Sakura giggles and moves to take her leave, Shikamaru’s nose twitching just slightly as she goes past. 

Kakashi can smell it too, but the young man’s probably not experienced enough yet to identify the smell that’s teasing at the most animal parts of the brain. Musk, arousal, whatever nice words you wanted to call it. At most it might occur to him that Sakura is looking extra cute today.

He crosses an ankle over the opposite knee, leaning back in his desk chair, and wishes he’d kept on the long white hokage robe now. Hopefully Shikamaru won’t get close enough to see the stubborn bulge in his lap.

_ Cute _ . He doesn’t think it fits anymore. He’s had her at his side for over a decade, but all it took was 5 minutes in his lap to obliterate the word from his vocabulary. Sakura isn’t cute, she’s perfectly sexy in every way he can think of. But maybe that’s because the taste of her mouth, earthy green tea they’d served the Kiri delegation and some indefinable flavor halfway between flower and skin, is fast fleeting on his tongue. 

“Sakura,” Kakashi calls sternly as she goes through the door. She half turns, a self-satisfied smile melting to obedient curiosity as she meets his serious look. “You’d better return that file by the end of the night. You know how I... feel... about the issue.”

She smiles again, lopsided and knowing, her teeth just barely grazing the swell of her bottom lip as she nods. “Of course, hokage-sama. As soon as possible.” 


	3. Seduction Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS HEAVY BDSM!! 
> 
> This is actually a short excerpt from a longer story. I started writing it for this 5 +1 series but it got so big I felt like it deserved its own story! Enjoy this snippet 😉

_III. Seduction Mission ([read full fic here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100671))_

  
“Can’t get a visual,” she pouts. “Scream if you need me.”

“Hmmm,” is all he can say in reply. She hears the sound of a door sliding open and shut through the earpiece. 

“Take your clothes off, stranger-san. Let me look at you.” 

There’s some shuffling as the haori and yukata drop away.

“Mmmmm, nice. Very nice indeed. I’m glad you favor the traditional underwear.”

“None at all.”

“Exactly. Now come over here.”

Sakura presses a hand to the blush on her cheeks. She hasn’t seen that much of Kakashi yet, not head on. No pun intended. 

He lets out a gasp of surprise and coughs a little. “It's refreshing to meet a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Shut up or I’ll have to gag you, and I’d really like to hear you scream.”

Kakashi hums in assent and coughs again, and she realizes Lady Aoi must have him in hand. 

Their target purrs and giggles. “Your friend likes me, too. He’s already at attention. What a good little soldier. I think he’s ready for basic training.”

Sakura’s mind darts in two directions at once. One side of her brain follows through the image of Kakashi, naked and gagged, getting put through his paces by the formidable woman. The other--- the pages and pages of notes in her file detailing the wounds she’s inflicted on past lovers. Kakashi was trained to endure torture and would just about anything not to compromise a mission. But one wrong move and he could be permanently injured. She shivers and scans the row of heads impaled on the dojo walls. Each one has slicked back silver hair or a facial scar or an eyepatch.

Kakashi is sporting all three tonight.

The shiver of desire deserts her completely and she moves into a crouch, fist charging with chakra before she realizes it would be a grave mistake. She’ll trash the mission if she super-punches her way into the bedroom. Neither of them will get paid and Kakashi, Tsunade, and the whole village council will be livid. She growls and redirects the energy to her feet, walking the wrong way around the trunk to try and get a better view.

Inside Aoi giggles and there's the distinct metallic song of a knife roll being unfurled. “You’re going to think I’m really weird, stranger-san. But I have a few things that really get me going that most people would call.... Different. Frightening, maybe.”

Kakashi doesn’t say anything but she can sense his chakra spiking anxiously through the wall. 

“You don’t think I’m scary do you, stranger-san?” She waits for him to reply and like the clever man he is, he doesn’t breathe a word. Aoi laughs and claps. “You’re so good at following directions. Get on the bed.”

There’s more shuffling, the tell-tale thump of rope being tossed onto a soft surface.

“Your hands please,” she instructs. “Above your head. Just like that. Now open wiiiide.”

Kakashi hmmphs helplessly and Sakura’s breath hitches in her throat. She shakes her head hard to dispel the clouds of desire percolating there. He’s in serious danger and she needs to be ready to save him, not rubbing herself against a tree trunk like a cat in heat. 

“Oh you look stunning,” Aoi purrs. “Just perfect.” 

There’s the unmistakable crack of a whip and Kakashi groans, then two more in quick succession. “Not ready to scream yet, stranger-san?”

Another and another, and Sakura fits a knuckle in her mouth to stop herself from sighing into her earpiece.

“You’re a tough one aren't you,” the woman laughs. “I bet you give that bratty little step-sister of yours spankings all the time. How do you like it?”

Sakura rolls her eyes. Of course his dumb pervy coverstory was going to come up again.. 

“Scream for me,” she demands and whips him again. “I said SCREAM.”

Kakashi stifles groan but doesn't cry out. Aoi laughs cruelly. “Good boy. Scream now and you’ll ruin all my fun plans. I’m going to play with you until you can’t take it anymore. If you last until I come, I might let you walk out of here.Well--- limp out of here. But if you scream before I do I’ll add your head to my collection. Now, let’s take a look under that eye patch, shall we? If you have another hole for me it’s best to know now.”

Sakura tenses and hops to her feet, skipping over the roof and onto a tree on the opposite side of the dojo. She can still hear Kakashi’s stifled groans and Aoi’s diabolical laughter in her earpiece, and she curses the slickness between her thighs. She needs to focus.

Crouching on a branch above the assembled henchmen she catches a breath, waiting for the right moment.

“Sounds like Aoi-dono’s having fun with this one,” one of them sneers, flipping a fish on the makeshift grill they’ve set up.

“Shut up.” An older man smacks him on the back of the head. “Do you know what she’ll do to you if she hears you?”

“I have an idea…” They all guffaw.

“That’s no reward,” the older man says grimly. “Lady Aoi likes three things-- blood, pain, and sex. In that order.” 

“What about money?” Sakura rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have time for this--- Kakashi’s breath comes short and labored over the headset between thwacks of the whip. She pulls two explosive tags from her pouch and touches them against the far wall of the dojo, grimacing at the sight of a silver-haired impaled head.

She times her jump so she’s already halfway back to Aoi’s bedchamber by the time the first tag explodes. The henchmen scatter, shouting and panicked. Two sprint to the main house, hesitating at the main door. She’s back in her tree when she hears through the earpiece frantic knocking on her door.

“Aio-dono!”

“WHAT have I told you about interrupting me when I’m entertaining,” she snarls savagely and there’s another crack of the whip as the henchmen cry out.

“Forgive us-- there’s been---”

Another explosion rocks the compound and Aoi howls and gnashes her teeth.

“Fine! You stay where you are stranger-san. I have a feeling I’m going to have some frustrations to take out on you when I return.”

She waits until she hears their footsteps recede before sliding open the window and slipping inside. The room is brightly lit, a pair of manacles hangs from the ceiling and a large wooden X with leather straps one each arm stands against one wall. An assortment of torture instruments and sex toys and a few objects that could be either is laid out on a low table at the foot of the bed. Kakashi is sprawled against the bed, red welts covering his naked thighs and torso.

Sakura takes the gag out of his mouth and loosens the rope at his wrists. She notes with great displeasure that the rope has been charged with chakra suppressant. Wisps of green chakra flow from her fingers into the rough braid and she wraps it carefully into her pouch. Ibiki will be interested. 

“You planted the bug, right?” Her hands ghost over the angry read marks on his stomach. 

He nods and gulps for air, gesturing towards the window. 

“Fawn over me later.” He wraps the haori loosely around his waist, leaving his chest bare and they both slip out of the room, closing the window behind them. 

It’s not hard to get home undetected, even half-dressed and pink haired and sprinting along the rooftops. Everyone in the street is watching the burning dojo but none move to help— though a public well sits just a few yards away. They enter their hotel room through the window, and Sakura goes about resealing all the entrances while Kakashi splashes water on his face.

“I told you,” she scoffs.

“Told me what.” He whips the eyepatch across the room and ruffles his hair from its neat part. 

“That she’d be dangerous.” She approaches him, palms already charged and ready. The leather whip had broken the skin along his ribs, his face and wrists are bruised. The trick rope has sucked him half dry of chakra and he’s trembling. She’s never seen Kakashi like this, every lascivious thought from earlier chased away by the urge to heal him, to hold him. 

He pushes her away, not hard but firm and he growls. “You sounded like you were enjoying it.”

“Huh?” Her mouth hangs open as he swivels his head to glare at her.

“Over the earpiece. You were practically gagging. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you pant and moan? It was all I could hear.” 

“Shut up,” she scoffs defensively. “If I hadn’t moved when I did your head would be on a spike outside Dominatrix Dojo. You should be on your hands and knees thanking me right now!”

“My hands and knees—-”

Without thinking she grabs him by the back of the hair and twists his head to look at her. His sharingan swirls weakly and she knows despite his fury he’s running on fumes.

“Yes,” she says, a little more gently. “Kissing my feet. Among other things.”

“Tsunade’s been a bad influence,” he grumbles but doesn’t shake free. Instead he eyes her defiantly, head tipped back, chest heaving as he gets his temper under control. 

“Did you… did you like it?”

“What, getting bullwhipped or listening to you moan?”

She bites her lip and releases her fist from his hair. “Both.” 

He huffs unevenly through his nose and scowls, utterly un-Kakashi like. She realizes she must be witnessing a side of him few have. “I did.”

“Hmmm.” She takes the opportunity to step closer, running her charged palms along his chest and stomach, closing wounds and mending muscle. He shivers at the sensation of her chakra replacing his lost energy, filling him up with crackling green light. For a while the only sound is their breathing in the little bathroom. “Do you know about aftercare, Kakashi-sensei.”

His eyes are closed, head slanted against the mirror above the sink. “.... no.”

“It’s after… you know… rougher stuff. You take care of the other person, take off the ropes, get them water, rub their shoulders. Make sure they feel okay.”

He makes a noise like he understands but is loath to ask how she knows all this.

“Are you… feeling ok now,” she asks tentatively, smoothing her fingers over the bruises at the base of his throat. He nods and gives her a weak smile. 

“I am. I’m sorry I was harsh. I didn’t particularly like feeling so vulnerable. That woman is a demon. And I’ve met demons.”

“It’s ok. I was there to back you up. And I got you out just in time, right?”

He nods again and lifts his forehead from the mirror, placing a familiar, comforting palm on the crown of her head. “That you did.”

“Kakashi,” she says softly. “I need to get to the wounds on your um… legs.”

He nods and unties the haori from his waist, letting it drop away. She sits on the toilet and he cups himself modestly as she works on the welts peppering his thighs. Her mouth goes dry when she realizes he needs both hands. 

She resists the urge to kiss his knuckles, to nudge his palms apart and make him forget all about Lady Aoi and her torture chamber. She looks up at him and sees he’s looking down, a strange, hot expression on his still uncovered face.

“Sakura…” 

She finishes her work and stands quickly. “I’m sorry. It was unprofessional for me to get… heated. I hated her the moment she put her hands on you.I should have put another tag under the bed so she’d be blown to hell tonight.”

“That would kind of defeat the purpose of our mission, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I don’t give a shit about the mission. If I had known I’d have to standby and listen while you—-”

“Now you know how I feel,” he says with a smirk. “You think I like crouching in a bush, listening to you pretend to moan and groan under some nobody feudal lord?” 

“Then— why do you keep coming with me.” She’s suddenly aware how close they are, how small and hot the room is, how naked Kakashi stands, vulnerable and maskless.

“Why would I ever let anyone else go with you.”

In a flash she has him pushed against the opposite wall, towel bar digging into his back but he’s not complaining. Maybe it’s because she already has her tongue in his mouth, hands holding him fast by either shoulder. He drops his hands away from his lap and holds her by the waist, and Sakura moans when she feels his naked length press against her stomach. 

She doesn’t breakaway until her lungs feel like they’ll collapse without a proper breath. Kakashi’s eyes are bright and focused, taking her in with just a hint of surprise.

“What was that for?” 

“You’re so dense,” she grumbles and starts to pull away but he draws her back to him. “Really? I thought it was pretty clear how I feel.”

He studies her intently as if coming to a decision. “I need you to say it.”

“I— damn! I don’t know how.” She frowns and goes to her tiptoes to kiss softly up his neck, nuzzling her nose and nipping at the freshly healed skin, and lays her head against his chest with a sigh. “Does that count? 

Kakashi tips her face to him by the chin. He looks tired and serious and sexy. “Yes.”


	4. AU

Kakashi checks his watch— it’s been 25 minutes.

For 25 minutes he’s sat his sweaty ass on this nice white couch, watching stock market updates on a flat screen TV like he knows what’s going in. The AC is cranked and there’s a bowl of mints on the low white enamel table in front of him. The mints are white too. So are the walls, the carpet, pretty much everything is white. 

By the way the receptionist is glaring at him, he must represent quite a smudge on the surroundings, in his ripped shirt and grungy black jeans cut off at the knee, a messenger bag defiling the pristine rug by the second. He pops another mint in his mouth and she glares at him.

“I like your hair,” he says diplomatically. 

“Hmpph.” She points her nose haughtily away, and turns to clack demonstratively on her keyboard. 

Another 10 minutes passes. More grey suited finance dorks shuffle by, clapping each other on the shoulder or shaking hands manfully as they leave the bank of conference rooms looking out over the city center. He swears he hears one of them say “Next time you’re in town we’ve  _ got _ to hit the links!” and he almost gags.

_ It’s not so bad _ , he thinks,  _ I could be dodging taxis in rush hour. Even if they made me take the service elevator up at least I get to take a break in the air conditioning.  _

He’d been about to punch out when the dispatch girl had knocked on the glass of her booth and made the international sign for lots of fucking money—- rubbing her thumb and forefinger together with a grin and dramatic nod. Some big time finance firm wanted their fastest courier, and they needed him at the office an hour ago. He’d pedaled through the broiling streets, weaving between cars and food carts and pedestrians to get there, only to be told to sit and wait. And wait.

He sighs and the receptionist huffs. A pair of money dorks walks by, one blond and one black haired talking about ‘the markets’.

“Are you here for someone,” the black haired one demands coolly. “You’ve been sitting here since 4.”

The receptionist shoots to her feet and practically runs to his side. “Uchiha-sama I can explain! This is the courier for—-”

The blonde interrupts her with a laugh and a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ooh, I know what he’s here for. She’s gonna make you  _ wait _ , buddy, settle in. Karin, did you offer him a water? It must be like 100 degrees out today.” 

The receptionist goes pink then white and grits her teeth. “I’ll get one right now .”

“I don’t have time for this,” Uchiha-sama huffs. “And neither do you, Naruto. The Hyuuga people are expecting us for drinks in an hour.” 

“Shit! You’re right.” He gives a thumbs up to Kakashi as he goes. “Good luck waiting for the boss lady!”

“Don’t call her that,” Uchiha-sama admonishes, their voices fading as they swipe into a set of glass doors. “You know she hates it.” 

Karin the receptionist returns with a sweating bottle of water and his thank you is so genuine that the corner of her mouth twitches into an unintentional smile. 

“Not to be rude but….” Kakashi gestures to the sun fast setting behind the surrounding skyscrapers. 

“Haruno-dono will be out as soon as the documents are ready,” she practically snarls, and he can tell by the look in her eye that Haruno-dono is not the type of boss you call with a gentle reminder that the courier is waiting. 

He’s used to it— most of these business types look at him like he’s a wad of dirty gum stuck to a rat’s ass. His time’s worth nothing to them. But he’s making a bundle in OT right now, plus a commission off the rush charge, and the slim chance of a tip. Not that he’s holding his breath for one. 

The stock market closes and the TV station switches to the fluffy, barely political news that stockbrokers must like to hear. The offices drain of people heading towards the wall of elevators behind him. The constant  _ bingbiiing _ of the doors opening and shutting are starting to give him a headache. He finishes his water bottle and glances at the receptionist. She’s sitting primly at her desk, her purse by her feet and jacket in her lap, eyes trained on the frosted glass door he’s assuming this dreaded boss lady will come through. 

Time ticks on and he counts the minutes he’ll be logging on his time card tomorrow. Finally, as if sensing an energetic shift, Karin spins in her seat to pretend to type on the keyboard. The frosted glass door behind him swings open. 

“Stop pretending to work, Karin. Just go home.” There’s nothing silky or diplomatic about her tone. He’d been expecting cold, clipped syllables and fake politeness--snobby but just nice enough that you weren’t sure if you were being truly insulted. 

The boss lady’s voice is hard, furious, exhausted. She’s accompanied by a cloud of dark floral perfume, almost cologne like with its musky undertone.

“The um--”An angry blush blooms on Karin's face and she gestures nervously to him and he stands, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. 

She’s a head shorter than him, even in her spiked red-bottom heels, with short pink hair cut in an asymmetrical style that invited one  _ not _ to fuck with her. She’s wearing a sleeveless tie-neck blouse the color of fresh blood, revealing muscular arms and shoulders, and a cream pencil skirt accentuating equally powerful thighs and the swell of an ass that refuses to quit. He quirks a brow at her equally appraising eye. She arches one right back.

“Konoha Corp Tower.” Without ceremony she hands him a white envelope with the name  _ Tsunade _ written hastily in green pen. “Do you know where that is?”

“I’ve been once or twice,” Kakashi replies pleasantly, tucking the envelope into his bag. 

“10th floor. She’ll be gone but her secretary will be waiting, poor little bitch.” Karin coughs softly. Haruno-dono’s eyes sharpen against the receptionist’s fearful face.  “Come back after and I’ll give you a tip. Karin won’t be here to buzz you in. Show them this and they’ll send you up the back way..” She produces a business card from nowhere and turns on her heel to leave through the frosted glass door. “ Or go home--- it’s all the same to me. I just want to hear Shizune’s… reaction, so make sure you hand it to her and no one else. Black hair, big tits, can’t miss her.”

He nods and takes off towards the service elevator without a second glance. He makes it to the tower in record time, taking some of his more death-defying shortcuts to avoid the snarled evening traffic. He screeches to a halt in front of the familiar building. Kakashi waves to the Konoha Corp security guards and takes the stairs to the 10th floor--- this time of day it's impossible to get an elevator going up. Shizune is at her desk, doodling on a notepad.

“Yo.” He draws the envelope from the bag and slides it across to her.

“Hey Kashi...whose this fr---” Shizune’s eyes go wide when she sees the handwriting and she gulps hard. “ _ Shit _ . Fuck.”

He holds out the delivery log out for her to sign and she regains her composure as she looks for the pen she’s already holding.

“That bad, huh?” Shizune groans and nods, finally giving her signature. “Cheer up, kid. It’s not your money.”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna be my ass either way,” she replies with a grimace and waves goodbye.

He doesn’t consider going home for a second. Tip or none he wants to see the dreaded Haruno-dono again, wants to smell her mind bending perfume and hear that mean little snarl. It takes him even less time to get back to the office, and he’s dripping sweat by the time he walks in through the service entrance. He hands them the business card and the security guards raise a brow to each other before buzzing him in.

“Go left not right,” one of them instructs. “It’ll take you right up to Haruno-dono’s office.”

“Lucky bastard,” sighs the other as he goes. 

He takes a different elevator up, small but nicely fabricated with wood paneling and marble tile. Kakashi catches his breath, no doubt smearing the walls with the damp fabric of his shirt. He lifts the hem to wipe his face clean just as the little box lets out a polite  _ boong _ and deposits him in the executive suite. 

Haruno-dono is standing with her back to the elevator, one hand tucked under her chin as she surveys the street below through a floor to ceiling window. The split at the back of her skintight white skirt goes just above her knee, and he takes the opportunity to fully examine that hardworking behind. 

“What did she say." She turns, lips curling to reveal the barest hint of a grin at his pose. 

“ _Shit_. Fuck.” He stands awkwardly in the middle of the office. As expected she’s put the desk between them, a large glass tabletop with just a slim laptop and a green pen sitting on its surface. There’s nothing in the room that suggests she has a family or a life or even a first name. It’s all sleek and white and glass except for her blouse and the blood red bottoms of her leather heels. "In that order."

“How did she  _ look _ .” Haruno-dono turns to survey him, her eyes run from his well-formed calves, the dirty jean cut-offs, the bulge beneath his zipper, up to his muscled shoulders and handsome, lopsided grin. 

“Terrified,” he replies honestly. He feels for poor Shizune, stuck between her formidble boss and this woman. 

She gestures for him to sit in the chair across from her desk. It’s surprisingly comfortable and he tries to stifle a sigh of relief. He’s been riding since six this morning without a break, except for the time he’d spent waiting for her under Karin the receptionist’s hateful gaze. 

“You get paid overtime, right?” Haruno-dono stands at her desk, running a mint green nail down the collar of her silk blouse. “If you’re— delayed. By the client.”

“I do.” He shifts in his seat to accommodate the throb in his lap. He hadn’t really expected a real tip. He needs the money as always but this might prove much more… satisfying than a measly wad of cash. You could make cash anywhere. Haruno-dono was one of a kind.

“Good.” She settles at her desk, chin perched on her knuckles, one small pale foot slipping from it’s high heel to rub along her calf and under the hem of her skirt. “You can start by taking off that disgusting shirt. Slowly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I don't know how much of a story this is??? It's not my most coherent work. 
> 
> I was having trouble coming up on an AU twist that was twisty enough. There are a TON of really great KakaSaku AUs out there that get to different dynamics in their relationship. So I wanted to include it in my ode to tropes but I wasn't sure how?-- also I just finished writing a like 16 chapter AU, by far the longest piece of writing I've ever completed .
> 
> So then I kinda thought-- what would be the universe where Kakashi has to wait around for Sakura, and this came to mind, based on an experience I watched as a secretary at a shmancy company. It didn't end sexy, this courier guy just waited like an hour for a package and was openly laughing at the finance bros. And also I was polite to him and he was kind of a dick. 
> 
> I have one 'trope' chapter left and I'm not married to one for it yet! So if there's something you'd like to see leave it in the comments :)


	5. Kakashi Can’t Cook

_v. Kakashi can’t cook_

  
It’s so late that it’s almost morning. They’d come from the Land of Tea at a dead sprint, and Kakashi had felt a childish, wild glee upon darting through the gates—  _ safe!  _

Sakura leaves him crouched on a roof while she debriefs with some sleepy jounin manning the mission desk and returns with their pay, stomach growling.

“What’s open,” he asks over the top of his book.

“Nothing,” she snorts. “International House of Ramen.”

“No thanks.” 

“I’m  _ starving _ ,” she says pointedly and he sighs, wagging a finger at her. “Fine— just come over for breakfast.”

Kakashi listens to her clatter around in the kitchen for a bit, pretending to read on her couch. Really he’s taking inventory of the room, looking for evidence of —- he doesn’t know what. Just something. A clue.

After too long he sighs and gets up to lean in the kitchen doorway.

“Do you need help.”

“I mean…”

She’s pulled out pots and pans and the meager contents of her fridge.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes for right now.” He gestures for her to get out of his way. “Why don’t you make some rice.”

Sakura nods and turns, humming in thought while she studies a stack of dusty cookbooks. She pulls one down and flips to the R page in the index.

“No. Please.” He looks genuinely pained. “You have to know how to cook rice.”

“Just— not off the top of my head.”

“How old are you, Sakura?”

She rolls her eyes and checks her watch. “That’s a new record. You haven’t been here half an hour and you’re already worrying about my age.”

He shows her how to wash the rice while the water boils, pointing to the water line.

“See where it’s filled up to?” She nods seriously, brow furrowed and he tries not to smile. “That’s how much water you put in. Every time.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” she pouts. 

“I know I was a little negligent as far as teachers go, but I’m going to be really embarrassed if someone finds out you can’t cook a pot of rice.” 

Sakura wrinkles her nose at the memory of his tutelage, or lack thereof. She’s been a jounin for twice as long as he had been her sensei. Sakura has transformed, shifted, expanded, contracted, and expanded again. Kakashi is still the same by all accounts— ageless in a way that could make him a petulant teenager or a curmudgeonly geezer, depending on the way the light hit.

Some acidic remark burns the tip of her tongue but she swallows it down and says instead, “My mom said a kunoichi’s potential is wasted in the kitchen.”

“I tend to agree with her, but you do have to eat real food every once in a while.” He tilts his head to the trash bin filled with cellophane wrappers from convenience store onigiri. “What would you do if Leaf Mart closed down.”

“Start going to KonohaStop instead,” she replies smartly, reaching for the lid on the pot. Kakashi slaps her hand away, thumb rubbing along her knuckle by way of apology as his palm recedes.

“I told you don’t lift the lid until it’s done.” He turns down the heat and sets the egg timer on her fridge. “You’ll let the steam out.”

“Speaking of which.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorway, blocking his escape to the living room. He glances ruefully at the window above her sink but decides it’s too risky. “Are we  _ ever _ going to talk?”

He rinses a flaccid carrot and slimy zucchini without answering. Eventually she’ll stomp away in a huff, and he’ll be able to finish cooking in peace. It’s rare for him to get a chance to be in a real kitchen— not that Sakura’s pathetically furnished kitchenette is a 5-star workspace. The rhythm of the knife on the cutting board, the gurgle of water in the pot. It’s soothing. 

He finds the scaly end of a stick of butter and two dubious looking eggs in her fridge. Sakura taps her foot but doesn’t move from the doorway.

“Soy sauce?” He asks innocently when she catches his lidded eye. She scowls. 

He finds it without her assistance in the cabinet above the stove and busies himself beating an egg. He feels the minty aura of her chakra draw closer, anxiously crackling and snapping in the small space. He tells himself it’s just her adrenaline coming down after a particularly exhausting mission. His own hands are trembling too, and he decides that it has nothing to do with her proximity. 

Sakura watches him deftly swipe the chopped vegetables into a pan of hot butter, tossing them with a flick of the handle. “Fine. I’ll start.”

He grimaces and turns off the rice. She knows he’s just as hungry as she is, just as bone tired and unwilling to leave a hot meal so close to being completed now they were safely home. She’s blocking the hall— not with her body so much as the threat of her reach, her speed. Her grasp.

There’s no way to get out the kitchen window without upsetting the mountain of dishes in her sink, slowing his escape and further enraging her. It’s a small window, too. 

She’s laid the perfect trap, though he doubts it was on purpose. Probably she’s noticed her position and took the opening. Clever girl. 

Sakura waits for a reply, eyes boring into him while he watches the vegetables fry in the pan. 

She massages her brow and leans against the fridge. “Ok.I think we need to talk about... us.”

He opens her cupboard again, rooting around in the emptiness to avoid her burning look. “Ginger.”

“What?”

“You don’t have ginger? Turmeric? Cayenne?”

“Kakashi.” Her chakra flexes angrily. Everything in the kitchen rattles just slightly.

“Good for the immune system. You should have some spices in your kitchen.”

“Shut up and look at me.” She slams the cupboard and scowls at him.

“That face isn’t so convincing, Sakura-chan. They say you catch more flies with—“

“If you’re telling me to smile right now…” The rest of the threat dies on her lips and she sags. “Fine. Sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about it.”

She leaves the kitchen, heading towards her bedroom. He feels no relief. Only the kunoichi shaped hole in the room once she’s gone.

He drops the rest of the butter in the pan, followed by the beaten eggs and swirls the liquidy mixture with a pair chopsticks. It’s practically hospital food— plain rice and an unspiced omelet. He turns the pan to let the last of the runny egg cook and nudges the omlet into a neat roll before turning off the heat. 

He finds two mismatched bowls and wipes off the layer of dust. They’re both patterned with cutsie flowers and look like they belong to a Sakura that left the building long ago.

Kakashi sighs as he scoops a portion of rice into each bowl, splitting the omelet in two with the chopsticks and dressing each plate with a swirl of soy sauce. Sakura still hasn’t come out of her room.

He stands at her door, hoping he’s chakra signature will be enough to get her to open it. When that doesn’t work, he knocks softly with a knuckle and waits. 

After a minute he pushes the door open gently. Sakura is halfway into putting a new shirt on, her arms tangled above her head. Her wraps are in a pile on the floor and he curses his finely tuned night vision. Without it he wouldn’t be able to see each bump and freckle on her petal pink nipples. Not that they weren’t already permanently burned into his memory.

“What.” She pulls the shirt down over her chest. She doesn’t look angry, she looks exhausted, every line on her face in stark relief under the hall light. She looks twenty years older than she really is. 

“Foods ready.”

“Cool.” She goes to push past him and he stops her with the brush of his fingertips along her wrist. “Oh  _ now _ you want to talk?”

They eat in silence on her couch. He takes his mask down to eat normally and she doesn’t even blink. She must be really mad at him.

He puts his empty bowl on the floor and tenses to stand, but somehow her feet are already in his lap and she’s stretched out, T-shirt riding up her stomach. 

“Speak,” she commands, pinching his stomach with her toes.

“Arf.”

“Good boy.” She pats his hand where it rests on her knee.  _ When did that happen _ , he thinks, even as the other palm finds its way to the bare arch of her right foot. 

“I’m worried about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You’re going to die of malnutrition if you don’t learn to properly feed yourself.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Somewhere outside the first bird of the morning chirps.

“You could keep cooking for me. That wasn’t half bad.”

“Sakura…”

“Kakashi.” She traces his knuckle. “Please don’t pretend nothings going on. Believe me, I’d like to never discuss it and keep….”

He sighs and shakes the image of  _ it _ from his mind. Sakura still flecked with blood from a fight and bright eyed with adrenaline, bent over in front of him. For him. Her hands rubbing green chakra over his upset stomach as she giggles that he needs to lay-off the eggplant. 

A strand of pink hair, smelling of yuzu, stuck to the shoulder of his flak jacket. Kurenai had picked it off him during a meeting, let it fall into his palm without comment. There weren’t too many pink haired people who’d rest their head there. 

“I’m old, Sakura.” He holds up a hand to still her protest. “I’m not saying you’re too young, I’m saying I’m too old. To change.” 

“What if I didn’t want you to change.” He quirks a brow. “Ok I’d  _ like _ you to  _ adjust  _ certain behaviors but I don’t want you to change.” 

“There are plenty—”

“No there aren’t. I already tried.”

His nose wrinkles and he wishes he’d thought to replace his mask before they started talking. 

“I thought I smelled something.” Like hormone charged sweat, like green wood, like musty dog fur, like spit on the senbon that’s rolled under her couch. She’d certainly put in an effort to forget him. 

She averts her eyes. “Very astute.”

They sit in silence for a while. 

“You can be distant or you can be jealous,” she says finally, kicking her feet from his lap and gathering the dishes from the floor. “But you can’t be both.”

“Can’t I?” He watches her go with something like regret on his face.

“It’s not fair. How am I supposed to lov—”

She purses her lips but the ‘v’ has already left them. She could have meant look or like or lose or even lunch if that tricky little consonant.

“How am I supposed to love someone else.” Her look is hot and hard and pleading, standing in the middle of her living room holding those ridiculous girly bowls. “How am I supposed to forget waking up with you. Falling asleep with you. Seeing your stupid handsome face.” 

“Hey— that's mean,” he pouts. “My face isn’t handsome, it's distinguished.” 

She sighs defeatedly and it’s worse than a scowl. She walks to the kitchen and it’s worse than her staying. 

He sits for a moment, smelling sweat and spit, wood and fur. It would be easy to leave through the window and never look back. She’d understand. She’d expect it. She’d double down on trying to forget. He’d come back here in a few weeks and it would smell of ink, of deer...

Kakashi gets up to follow her, unable to ponder who she might replace him with. Already his hands itch at the thought that someone else had touched her since he’d last touched her. Kissed her since he’d ran away. Left their scent on her sheets since he’d done the same. He hasn’t felt jealousy in a long,  _ long _ time.

She’s considering the pile of dishes in her sink, fists pressed against either hip.

“You think it’s a waste of chakra to get a shadow clone to do these?”

“Sakura.” She turns, dry eyed but dejected. She looks like she’s already methodically snipping away the places where he’s become tangled in her thoughts, in her heart.

“Yes, sensei.” He frowns at the name. 

“It  _ is  _ a waste of chakra.” He gulps. “And I will… adjust. For you.”

With this he turns and darts through the front door instead of out a window. She flushes and her heart flips under her ribs and then she stamps her foot.   
  


”That’s NOT what I meant!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One time I called my grandma to ask how to make rice and she deadass hung up on me 🤷🏻♀️


	6. Old Fashioned Kakashi

He waits until she’s gone, drifted away to help some aunt or cousin or someone in the kitchen, leaving him alone for the first time ever with Kizashi. He tries to forget the first time he’d met her father, how pleased the pink haired old man had been that his young daughter would be trained and protected by the Copy-Nin. He hadn’t seen Sakura’s parents again until she’d dragged him here to meet them as her…. boyfriend. 

The word still leaves a strange, sandy feeling in his mouth. He feels like it should only apply to pimple-faced teenage loverboys, not accomplished jounin. Still they hadn’t found a better term in the last three years and now he was ready to ask for a different title. 

The man in question is smiling under a blossoming pear tree, deftly shucking lychee from their spiny shells. He pushes the bowl towards Kakashi, grinning mischievously.

“Go ahead, Kakashi-san,” he goads. “Try one, they’re only in season a few weeks a year.”

Kakashi sighs. It’s not the first time Kizashi has tried to get him to take down his mask. “No thank you, Haruno-sama. Your wife made sure I was good and stuffed before I left the table.”

“Hmm, you do eat fast!” He smiles and laughs, not unkindly. “Between you and me, I can’t stand my sisters’ husbands. I’m glad you’re here--- gives me an excuse not to socialize.”

Kizashi waves to his wife, who scowls and wags a warning finger at him. Hair aside, Sakura is much like her mother-- clever green eyes and a warm expression that slides easily into a frightening glare when need be. “Don’t tease Hatake-san,” she yells from across the garden before turning back to lift one of her grand-nieces to her hip. 

The old man laughs and swats the admonishment away, snagging another lychee from the bowl. “My wife likes you very much.”

“Oh?”

“I think my daughter might, too,” Kizashi muses with a grin and a wink. “Personally--- I think you’re just alright.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Haruno-sama.”

“Please, don’t be so deferential, you’re going to make me blush.” He rolls his eyes. “Call me  _ Kizashi- _ sama.”

“Yes, sir.” Kakashi crinkles his eye and surveys the garden. It's someone’s wedding, the fourth this year. He doesn’t try to remember the names anymore, just smiles and gives his congratulations and admires Sakura in her lavender and tea green kimono, her hair invariably twisted into some enticing updo he has to pretend doesn’t drive him wild.

Pink heads mingle like loose flowers among the more pedestrian coloring of the groom’s family around tables set up under the blooming trees, kids giggling and running across the arched red bridge that stretches over a slim trickle of a stream.

“So. You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Uh--” Kakashi hadn’t said anything yet, only sat where Sakura had deposited him an hour ago and listened to her father make bad puns and snide remarks about his extended family. _ The temper on these women _ , he’d confided with a grin.  _ Well, I don’t have to tell you, do I? _

Kizashi spits a lychee seed into the dirt. “Let’s take a walk.”

He rises, once again reminding Kakashi that the shinobi is no wilting blossom even at his age. Kizashi has almost half a foot on him, broad shoulders and strong arms. He’d never risen past chunin before retiring, but that didn’t say much about his skills. 

Haruno Kizashi was a family man at heart, and pursuing elite status didn’t exactly jive with raising a child. Kakashi wonders if  _ having _ elite status already will make it somewhat easier on him and Sakura. 

Probably not. It hadn’t for his father. 

Kizashi leads him away from the noise of the wedding, taking him along a winding path through a stand of bamboo at the back of the garden. This particular arm of the Haruno clan are all civilian merchants trading mostly in medical supplies, characteristically clever of the family. A shinobi village will always need more gauze and antiseptic and soldier pills. The wedding was a unique opportunity to demonstrate their wealth, particularly the sprawling compound they’d just acquired. The grounds are immaculately sculpted, with lanterns floating every few feet. A bewildered peacock crosses their path and disappears into the underbrush with a haughty squawk.

“You were saying?” Kizashi settles on a stone bench and pats the seat beside him.

“I-- uhm.” He racks his brain to find the best way to start, then sighs and pulls down his mask. Kizashi grins and leans closer to examine Kakashi’s face.

“Ahh, now I see why you wear that thing,” he teases. “You’re a monster.”

“Harun--- Kizashi-sama. Sir.” He clears his throat. “I think you know what I’m going to ask.”

“I do.” Sakura’s father smiles again but it’s not the easy going grin he normally wears. He’s sizing Kakashi up, and he gets the sense Kizashi could have been a jounin if he’d wanted to. His chakra is green and steady swirling, just like Sakura’s. It makes sense-- Tsunade hadn’t  _ given _ her any extra powers, only helped her harness her full potential. Mebuki had a similar force of will, no matter how sweetly she spoke to you. “But I’d like to hear you say it yourself before I give my answer.”

“Well.” Kakashi chokes on the words even though he knows there’s no going back now. “I’d like to… to ask... I love your daughter very much, Kizashi-san. I know I’m not the ideal candidate for a son-in-law. You and your wife are shinobi, you know what that life is like, and Sakura does too, but... I’m a little afraid she might have some youthful illusions about the type of life possible for two active duty jounin. Even so, I want to give her... everything. Anything. Whatever will make her happy. While I can.” 

To

“Then we feel the same,” Kizashi supplies as he trails off. “Mebuki and I came to terms a long time ago that safe and healthy would be a stretch for our Sakura. But happy would always be on the table.”

Kakashi nods, unsure how to proceed. A light wind rustles the willow tree behind them, tickling its lanky branches against the back of his yukata. Dove gray and cut just right, Sakura had bought the whole kit for him the first time he’d shown up at a family function in a flak jacket and tactical sandals. “Kizashi-sama. I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Kisashi raises a brow and grins. “I think you’d better ask her, I don’t know where you got the impression that my permission matters to Sakura. She’s not much for tradition and etiquette.”

“I know.” Kakashi clears his throat. “But I am. Call it the last vestiges of propriety ingrained in me at Grandma Hatake’s feet.”

“Well.” Kizashi rubs his chin and hums thoughtfully. “If your question is whether my wife and I would be happy to have you in our family, if we believe you cherish our daughter just as much as we do, if we think you’d be a good husband and father, that you’re capable of protecting and supporting and loving Sakura-- then the answer is yes.”

He holds his hand out for Kakashi, and they share a firm shake. Not a business deal, as so many marriages still were, especially for the big clans. An agreement, an understanding. A promise. He was promising to bring joy to the Harunos, firstly to their only child and secondly to the tempestuous old couple themselves, preferably in the form of a grandbaby.

“I hope you have a ring,” Kizashi laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “She’s not so modern that she’ll accept a proposal without one. You know she’s always been a bit of a romantic.”

“I do.” Kakashi produces a small box from the folds of his yukata. Inside is a delicate gold band, wrought to look as though it's split and held together with three emeralds. He’d kept a cache of Hatake heirlooms under his bed for years, and this was the most likely candidate he thought. If he remembered correctly, this piece had belonged to his father’s grandmother, a friend and confidante to the nidaime hokage.

Kizashi whistles and rubs his beard. “Jeez, you venerable clan guys really know how to do it.”

“There's a house for us, too.” The family compound was still intact, though somewhat dilapidated and overrun with the braver members of the Nara’s herd. “It just needs a little...work.”

“Say no more.” Kizashi waves a hand. “My brother is a carpenter. It’ll be ready by the wedding.”

“She hasn’t said yes yet,” Kakashi laughs, rubbing at his neck. “I’d hate to have your brother put in all the work for a house that won’t be used.”

“Nonsense.” Kizashi strokes his chin. “You could move back there yourself if my daughter defies all logic and turns you down.”

“The place is a bit sad for me,” Kakashi explains. “But it could be happy again. I wouldn’t want to move back there without her. If Sakura turns me down…”

“You wouldn’t find another woman to marry?”

Kakashi shakes his head. “No. Never.”

Kizashi claps him on the shoulder. “Good answer.”

Two soft voices, twinkling with laughter float down the path. Kakashi can tell from the green pulse in the air that its Sakura and her mother before they come into sight.

“There you are!” She waves and hurries her steps with a happy sigh, for a moment he glimpses what she’d been like as a little girl. Kizashi has a way of bringing it out of her. “We wondered where you’d gotten off to.” 

Her mother looks away blushing, and Kakashi realizes his mask is still down. “Are you feeling okay, Hatake-san?”

“I’m fine,” he promises. Sakura sits between the two men and takes his hand, beaming. “Just a little overheated. We were admiring the gardens.”

“They’re certainly excessive,” Mebuki says, taking the seat on the other side of her husband.

“I think you mean  _ extensive _ , Mom.” 

Mebuki shrugs. Kizashi grins and drapes his arms over the two women’s shoulders, hugging them close for a moment against their protests that he’ll wrinkle their kimono. 

“Ha! What more can a man ask for,” he booms with a laugh. His wife feels his forehead with the back of her hand. Sakura’s palm is still tucked against Kakashi’s and she gives it a squeeze. 

“I think  _ you’re _ a little over heated,” Mebuki chides. 

“Have we been sufficiently social, wife? Can we go home yet?” The big man pouts and pretends to sag helplessly against her. 

“It’s  _ your  _ family, husband.” She rolls her eyes and Sakura giggles. “And no, we haven’t.”

They sit all togethe, watching the breeze ruffle the drooping willows, two birds warbling a complicated, happy symphony somewhere overhead.

_ What more can a man ask for _ , thinks Kakashi watching the three Harunos. A partner, a family, a sunny day. Sakura catches his eye and quirks a brow. He nods and gives her hand a squeeze.

“My cousin was bragging about his koi,” Kizashi says after some time, gesturing to the bend in the path. “But I don’t think these old legs will get me there and back.”

“You want me to see if Uncle Keiji’s koi are bigger than your koi, Dad?” Sakura rests her head on her father’s shoulder and smiles sublimely. 

“Yes, bring Hatake-san. He can scare them up with that terrifying mug.” Kizashi rises to his feet with no trouble at all, offering his hand to his wife. “We’ll fulfil our social obligation and when you get back, we can all slip away for dango.”

“... such a waste,” Mebuki sighs as they disappear around the bend in the path. “Keeping that face under wraps.”

As soon as her parents are out of sight, Sakura melts against him, kissing a line along his exposed jaw and nestling their clasped hands in her lap.

“You’re very sweet,” she laughs. “To put up with my dads nonsense. I know he’s been talking your ear off all afternoon. Did you take your mask off to shut him up?” 

“I feel a bit bad. Now that he’s seen my face he’ll have to find some other game to play at family functions.” 

Sakura sighs and smiles, leaning back to admire him with a shake of the head. “You look so damn good in this outfit.”

“Thanks, my sexy genius girlfriend bought it for me so I wouldn’t look like a shlub at family events.” 

“I am a sexy genius, aren’t I?” She laughs again and smiles that radiant smile, it seemed like she did that so much more now and some sluggish part of his brain comes around to the idea that against all logic—- he might actually have something to do with it. She punctuates her joy with a swift, firm kiss, the promise of a moan percolating in her throat, before tugging him to stand with her. “Cmon, let’s look at this koi and by the time we get back my parents will have already said our goodbyes for us.” 

The force of her little palm, the heat of the sun, the almost dreamlike beauty of the garden. Kakashi’s throat dries out and his vision swims and for a moment all he sees is a blur of lavender fabric and green willows and pink hair and he by the time he realizes what he’s envisioning something he hasn’t, ever, the world has reconstituted bright and. Ew. He hasn’t dared— in 40 years hasn’t truly considered— a happy ending.

“Sakura,” he manages to choke out and it doesn’t sound half as stunned as he feels. She turns, brow quirked, lips paused mid sentence. 

Her jaw drops and he realizes that he’s sinking to one knee, free hand fumbling for the little box, and the words come out fervent and hopeful, like saying a spell or setting a seal. He doesn’t really hear them but she floats her hand to his and doesn’t stop him from sliding on the gold band, not even stopping to admire it before pulling him to his feet in an embrace.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she sobs between laughs. The front of his yukata is wet with spidery lash prints and she rubs at them distractedly. “If— if you're sure, Kakashi.”

He captures her in a kiss before she can see the pain pass over his face—- he doesn’t know if she doesn’t trust her own suitability or doubts his commitment and he doesn’t want to know. When he breaks away all doubt is gone from her face. 

“Of course I am. What more could a man ask for.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I’m not super familiar with Japanese wedding customs, or writing fluff, or creating successfully satisfying endings so I don’t know WHY I wrote this but maybe my sweet bb angels just deserve some semi-canon happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed doing this for Firefly ("Shut Up Kiss Me Hold Me Tight"), so I thought I'd take a stab at it with Kakashi and Sakura! Leave your fav tropes in the comments and I'll see how I can play with them :)


End file.
